


This Ain't No Style

by Nokomis



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Gen, crossposing lj fic from days of yore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 13:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11291598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis
Summary: Brendon is restless. Jon has good advice.





	This Ain't No Style

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ [here](http://nokomis305.livejournal.com/149735.html) in May '08 and thus set in pre-split Panic.

Brendon always remembered tour as being a jumbled rush of new places, new people and the unmatchable thrill of performing, all excitement and action and laughter.

He always seemed to conveniently forget that it was also really fucking boring - hours trapped in the bus, constant motion and restlessness combining to make tempers flare and every little annoyance amplified. 

There was no hiding, not on the bus that didn’t seem so spacious and luxurious as it once had. His bandmates were always right there, and he loved them, he really did, but after a while, he just didn’t want to hear someone say “Not now, Brendon,” or “Some of us are trying to sleep” or whatever.

He wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t like they were either - if he got tangled up in another of Ryan’s scarves he was going to use it to tie Ryan into his bunk, and he wasn’t even going to get started on how Spencer’s shoes always seemed to be laying right where Brendon would trip over them when he climbed out of his bunk, and Jon... well, Jon was as close to perfect as any of them, Brendon thought, though sometimes it would be nice if the bathroom didn’t smell like Bath and Body Works was testing out a new pot-infused line in there - but after a while it got hard to just grin and bear it.

They were somewhere in the midwest, he thought - all interstates looked the same, no matter where you were, all straight lines and carbon-monoxide stunted greenery sprouting up on either side so the locals didn’t have to look at the constant flow of traffic - and Jon was beside him, laughing over something that’d happened to a tech the night before.

Brendon wasn’t high because he didn’t trust himself to not say something stupid. The restlessness had been growing over the past week. He’d been getting increasingly jittery and frustrated, a feeling that only abated when he was on stage. 

He’d made the mistake of letting out this frustration on his bandmates before, and it hadn’t ruined any friendships - they loved each other too much for that - but he could remember the annoyed glances and the sharp words Ryan had hurled back at him like knives, the way they had cut him in ways he hadn’t realized he could hurt, and he... 

He didn’t like having the worst parts of him being thrown back in his face by the people he loved.

Only, he didn’t seem to be hiding his frustration too well, because Jon had asked him four times already if he was okay.

“I’m fine,” he said petulantly again, sounding less and less fine with every inquiry. He took the toke Jon offered him, but instead of having a calming effect he just felt even more jittery.

“Just let it out already,” Jon said sagely. “Whatever you’re holding in is making you crazy.”

Jon always had good advice.

“No,” Brendon said. “I’m being nice and gracious and a good bus-mate.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t as good at it as Ryan. “We aren’t going to kick you off the bus if you complain, you know. It’s been a little eerie, watching you not complain.”

Brendon stuck out his tongue. “I love you all and everything you do.”  
“You’ve never had a problem with complaining before,” Jon said, undeterred by the declaration of love.

Brendon shrugged.

“Seriously. Ryan’s starting to theorize you’ve been brainwashed somehow, and Spencer’s only eating individually packaged food he opens himself.”

“And what are you doing?” Brendon asked before he could stop himself.

“Taking the direct approach,” Jon replied. “So what is it?”

“I’ve just been...” Brendon started, and then took a deep breath. “What if this is it?”

“It?” Jon said. “I need a little more to work with, I’m not a mind-reader.”

“That’s not one of your many powers, Jon Walker? I’ve been mislead!” Brendon said. Jon gave him a look. “Okay, fine. I was just thinking that a lot of bands, you know... putter out. Get sick of each other.”

“And?”

“And I don’t want to be one of those bands,” Brendon said in a rush.

“So you... started acting all fidgety like a priest in a whorehouse,” Jon said. “How was that going to help?”

Jon could always see the flaws in plans. It was one of his superpowers. “Um. You wouldn’t think I was annoying?”

Jon laughed and threw his arm over Brendon’s shoulder. “You kind of worked the opposite magic there, buddy. You know we all love you, even when you’re annoying.”

“Yeah,” Brendon said. “I know.”

“So stop trying to be someone you aren’t. It’s even more annoying.”

Brendon grinned. “So... you think I should hide all Ryan’s scarves?”

“Fuck yeah, I think one of them escaped and tried to strangle me in my sleep,” Jon said. “I’ll help.”

Jon always knew how to make everything better. It was one of Brendon’s favorite things about him.


End file.
